Somebody to Nobody to Everybody

Before my son was born, I felt like I was somebody. Somebody of significance. A young doctor with dreams. When he came along, I became a nobody. He became the significant one. He came first. Outside the home, I could be whoever I wanted, but at home I was happy to be in the background. Relatively speaking, happy to be a nobody.

His death cleaved my time on Earth in two.

After his death, I became Everybody. I became a parent grieving in Gaza and the rest of the Middle East. In Russia. In Ukraine. I became the parent of someone who died in an accident somewhere in the world or due to medical misadventure, preventable starvation, malaria, diarrhoea, pneumonia or due to life-threatening emotional pain.

Tied to many others by an invisible thread of compassion, I am Everybody.

Somebody to Nobody to Everybody.

Heartbreak is universal. It is not mine alone. It has unlocked gates, to paths leading to others with broken hearts. Together we are developing a new language to enable us to live in this cruel new reality, walking together, hand in hand.

Thinking back, in the ‘Before’ I had no clue how to look after myself. I had no role-models of good self-care. It was an injustice to my son that he had no such role-models either. I was conditioned to believe that my feelings were not important. It was normal to ignore my needs. At school, course work came first. At work, patients came first. At home, family came first. In life, duty came first. I believed I was compassionate but now I see that my compassion flowed in only one direction, outward. Now I know, if my compassion does not include myself, it is not complete.

When we are fully present to our own pain and vulnerability, then we can be present to someone. We can sit with all the uncertainties they give rise to. We can acknowledge there is no easy fix. Often, no fix at all. When someone is hurting, algorithms and protocols don’t make them feel seen or understood. Another human-being willing to step into their despair does. A compassionate connection does. An emotional engagement does.

The word ‘Love’ can seem too big. Too much. We don’t use it as often as we mean it. On top of that, it has been seriously bastardised by Hollywood. But it is the stuff this Universe of invisible strings is made of. We know it by many other names such as friendship, kindness, caring and compassion.

What has survived my son is love. What has helped me survive his death is love. What will survive us all is love.

At CORe (www.core-community.com) we feel that love. We constantly find ways to take good care of ourselves, not just because we should, but because we have compassion for ourselves. Maybe, even love.